What we seek to feel
by JosGotGlock
Summary: Spoilers for S2 thru Acceptance. This was written for a Quoteathon. Not good at summaries, but this is just a short little story involving House and Cameron. I guess you could say its fluff too, so if that isn't your thing then don't read.


_"What do we seek to feel? Happy, they say, frequently."_

She was livid and wanted to have it out with him once and for all. She waited in his office for him to show up after lunch. She wanted to know why he would deny treatment of her patient. Was it because of her? Because she felt this girl deserved a second look?

Of all days, why did it have to be this day? She doesn't believe in higher powers, so why did fate decide to give her this patient?

She watched him walk down the hall and enter before he realized that she was waiting for him. He stopped and then continued until he was in front of his desk looking down at her. She felt all the choked up feelings came rushing to the surface and before she could think about holding them in check she bounded up out of his chair.

"She needs a biopsy," she said in a barely controlled voice.

House could see that she wanted confrontation, so he egged her on. Being stubborn and feeling put upon from having Stacey on his heels constantly.

"You need me to approve the procedure. Must be a bitch. The answer is no."

She felt the anger come welling up from the dark hole where she knew her damaged soul lay. She couldn't hold it back any longer. The hurt. The anger. All of it just boiled like a teapot hitting its steam. Why now and not some other time she doesn't know, but she hurts and the only way to forget about it is to make him feel her pain.

"Fine. I'm over you. I've jumped on the bandwagon. I hate you!" she spat out at him, wanting to wound him as he has done to her so many times in the past.

_'I hate you!'_ she heard the echo in her mind. It had a rippling effect inside her. She was angry at him and angry that her husband died, but mostly she was angry at herself because even when she hated him, she still wanted him. This connection she feels with him can't be pushed down. No matter how hard she tries, he is always there in her mind and in her heart.

House felt her words being flung at him. He tried to shield himself by deflecting her anger, but it backfired on him. He knew that eventually she would break through his defenses. He just didn't realize how much it would hurt to have her hate him. He felt every word that came from her mouth as stones being thrown at his tower.

"Great. Let's treat her." He just wanted her to leave before he did something stupid, like say he was sorry.

"What is it? You won't help Cindy, but you're obsessed with that piece of dirt inmate! Are you just trying to prove that who someone is doesn't matter, that all that matters is your stupid puzzle? Fine. Treat them the same. That's all I'm asking. One test." She was resigned to the fact that he held her strings and he was making her jump, but her patient deserved all the possible avenues to be explored.

Her anger at him was ebbing away and slowly she begun to realize what just took place. How did those words ever make it out of her mouth?

"Cover two more of my clinic hours and you can have your one procedure." House thought to himself, just leave so I can pick up the pieces.

Cameron nodded and turned to leave. She walked out with her lab coat trailing and her heart shattered into pieces. She didn't think she would ever be the same.

Later in the lab she was scrutinizing the print out that verified her patient's disease. She dropped her head in her hand and rubbed her eyes. She was so tired. The fight with House. Her patient Cindy. Today being the 10th anniversary of David's death. She was broken and there was no way to fix her. She might as well be the patient and the diagnosis is death. Death by disease or death by a broken heart. Either way, she didn't know how she managed to keep her head above the flood waters that threatened to sweep her away into the darkness.

House was tired and drunk. He drank too many shots of whiskey trying to heal his patient. The inmate said he wanted Cameron, he thought she was hot. 'Tell me something I don't know', he thought. Everyone likes Cameron. He was trying to erase her words from this afternoon, but he kept hearing them over and over. He had made a decision while getting drunk with the death row guy. He didn't ever want to hear the word 'hate' come from her lips again.

House heaved himself out of his chair, put his bag over his shoulder grabbed his cane and shuffled his way out the door to the bank of elevators. As he stood there wobbling slightly, he knew that he wanted to go to her. He couldn't let this day end like this. _'Didn't someone say that you weren't to go to bed angry with your loved one?'_ Being honest with himself, he can't deny that she isn't his love anymore. He did not want her angry with him, it hurt too much. He got on the lift and hit LL for the lower level where the labs were. He had had enough.

Her tears were unstoppable. It was late and there was no one around the labs. She buckled under the pressure of the day. The centrifuge needed to be calibrated and she needed time to think. She wanted to scream that she didn't mean those words to him. Hate wasn't what motivated her to argue. Frustration was the fire that burned inside her. She was frustrated with him that he couldn't open his eyes and see her for what she was. A good doctor, an intelligent woman, and damaged just as much as him. Her damage just doesn't show on the outside.

House pushed the door open to the lab. She was standing faced away from him so he couldn't read what her face was saying. He usually could judge her mood just by looking in her eyes.

She has the most expressive eyes that changed color when her emotions were stirred. They were deep blue when she was angry and hazel brown when calm and happy.

He wanted to see what they looked like after making love to her. That's what he wanted and now all he had to do was try and repair the damage from earlier today.

"Mixing up some margaritas? Mines a double, Senorita. That's Portuguese, you know.

"Spanish." She sniffed and wiped her nose with a kleenex.

"Uh-oh. What's going on?" Not wanting to make her cry more.

"I'm re-calibrating the centrifuge." Her voice was low and scratchy.

"Turn around." She does, and he can see the pain in her eyes and that she had been crying. Her eyes were almost a chocolate brown with her emotions again stirring the colors together.

"I'm not crying." She said stubbornly. Wiping the tracks of tears off of her cheeks with the back of her hand.

"Right." He took a step closer and leaned with both hands on his cane. He was afraid that if he reached out to touch her cheek she would bolt.

"Today was not the day for you to be a jerk." Wishing he would just get the hint and leave.

"Why?"

She hesitated, "It's been ten years since my husband died and it's not easy for me to get through today. Working with Cindy, brought all the emotions to the surface again, and I wasn't controlling them very well."

"So…you wind up crying over centrifuges?"

"Or hating people." She turned around against the counter and started gathering her materials together in preparation of getting out of there and going home to have a stiff drink.

He sobered up quickly when he realized she was going to walk away without giving him a chance. He gathered his courage and moved even closer to her. His chest was inches away from her back and he reached up with his hand and touched her shoulder. It was easier talking to her without having to look into her eyes.

"Cam…Allison, I don't do this very well and I haven't in a long time. I'm sorry I was a bastard today. Your patient, who was not your husband, challenged your emotions today. There wasn't anything that you could have done that would change what is for them. You have to let it go."

She drew a quick breath and turned so that she could look into his eyes.

"Like you have with Stacy?" She knew he was having trouble keeping his emotions in check around her. She wasn't blind to this weakness of his. She wished Stacy's husband could be transferred out of here so that things would be easier on him.

"Touche." His voice grumbled and she could feel it against her breasts. If they got any closer it would be with their clothes off. She wanted him to back off otherwise she was going to do something stupid, like tell him she loved him.

"Okay, so now you are talking French. What is it with you tonight?" She leaned back against the table and looked up into his piercingly blue eyes.

"I don't want to feel the way I did when you said you hated me. I don't know how to do this, but I don't want you to hate me." He was so sincere. She slowly brought her hand up and touched his scruffy cheek, surprised that he allowed it. She watched fascinated as his eyes closed and he turned his cheek into her touch.

"House…" she breathed as her voice trailed off as her eyes roamed over his features freely while he wasn't looking. Standing on her tip-toes she moved her hand around the side of his head into his soft hair at the base of his neck and pulled him down to meet her lips.

House opened his eyes briefly on the way down and thought how he liked her eyes when they turned green with desire and love.


End file.
